Blind Lake by Robert Charles Wilson

issue, but he was worried about Tess, what with all the problems back at Crossbank, and maybe she wasn’t getting the kind of parental attention she deserves, in fact she’d said a thing or two to him… is that the gist?”
    Fleischer held up his hands. “I can’t get involved in this kind of discussion. I told Tessa’s father the same things I’m telling you.”
    “Ray has an agenda of his own, Mr. Fleischer.”
    “My concern is with Tess.”
    “Well, I—” Marguerite restrained an urge to bite her lip. How had this gone so badly wrong? Fleischer was looking at her now with patient concern,
patronizing
concern, but he was a grade eight teacher, after all, and maybe that big-eyed frown was just a defensive reflex, a mask that slid into place whenever he was confronted with an hysterical child. Or parent. “You know, I, obviously, I’m willing to do whatever will help Tess, help her focus on her schoolwork…”
    “Basically,” Fleischer said, “I think we’re on the same wavelength here. Tess missed a good deal of school at Crossbank—we don’t want to repeat that.”
    “No. We don’t. Honestly, I don’t think it will happen again.” She added, hoping it didn’t sound too obviously desperate, “I can sit down with her, talk to her about being more thorough with her work, if you think that would be a good idea.”
    “It might help.” Fleischer hesitated, then: “All I’m saying, Marguerite, is that we both need to keep our eyes open where Tess is concerned. Stop trouble before it happens.”
    “My eyes are all the way open, Mr. Fleischer.”
    “Well, that’s good. That’s the important thing. If I think we need to touch base again, can I call you?”
    “Anytime,” Marguerite said, ridiculously grateful that the interview seemed to be drawing to a close.
    Fleischer stood up. “Thank you for your time, and I hope I didn’t alarm you.”
    “Not at all.” An outrageous lie.
    “My door is always open if you have any concerns of your own.”
    “Thank you. I appreciate that.”
    She hurried down the corridor to the school door as if she were leaving the scene of a crime. Mistake to mention Ray, she thought, but his fingerprints were all over this encounter, and what a slick setup it had been—and how like Ray to use Tessa’s problems as a weapon.
    Unless, Marguerite thought, I’m kidding myself. Unless Tessa’s problems went deeper than a mild personality disorder; unless the whole Crossbank circus was about to repeat itself… She would do anything to help Tess through this difficult passage, if only she knew
how
to help, but Tessa’s own refractory indifference was almost impossible to breach… especially with Ray running interference, playing mind games, trying to position himself for some hypothetical custody battle.
    Ray, seeing every conflict as a war and driven by his own dread of losing.
    Marguerite pushed through the doors into autumn air. The afternoon had cooled dramatically, and the clouds overhead were closer, or seemed so in the long light of the sun. The breeze was frigid but welcome after the claustrophobic warmth of the schoolroom.
    As she let herself into her car she heard the wail of sirens. She drove cautiously to the exit and stopped long enough to let a Blind Lake Security vehicle roar past. It looked like it was heading for the south gate.
     
     
     

Chapter Nine
     
     
    Sue Sampel, Ray Scutter’s executive assistant, tapped on his door and reminded him that Ari Weingart was scheduled for a meeting in twenty minutes. Ray looked up from a stack of printed papers and pursed his lips. “Thank you, I’m aware of that.”
    “Plus the guy from Civilian Security at four o’clock.”
    “I can read my own day planner, thanks.”
    “Okay, then,” Sue said.
Screw you, too
. Ray was in a dark mood this Wednesday, not that he was ever sweetness-and-light. She supposed he was chafing under the lockdown like everybody else. She understood the need for security, and she